Boxed Set

by Brenda K. Davies

  Emma threw herself forward with enough force to tear herself free of the man's grasp. Off balance, she stumbled and crashed into the glass of the French doors. Thankfully, the glass held up, but she bounced off the doors like a manic rubber ball. Behind her, she could hear the heavy breathing of the man coming at her. There wasn't going to be enough time for her to get away from him.

  A scream rose and died in her throat when the balcony doors burst open, and a shadow rushed into the room. Emma fell back, and even though she couldn't see him, she instinctively knew it was Ethan with them. A startled scream filled the air as Ethan lifted the smaller man and smashed him into the wall with enough force to crack the plaster.

  The loud snarl that tore from Ethan made the hair on Emma's arms and neck rise. She'd been about to go and help him with the man, but she found her feet frozen in place. The man squealed at the same time a strange sucking sound filled the room. She tried to deny it, but she knew what the sound was, what it meant.

  Nausea twisted her stomach; a dull thud filled the room as the body hit the floor. Her hand shook as she searched for the switch in the bathroom and turned the light back on. Ethan's head swiveled toward her; his eyes were burning coals in the dark caressing his body.

  His gaze relentlessly held hers; he seemed almost to be daring her not to run away screaming from him as he wiped away the blood staining his mouth with the back of his hand. Though her brain was screaming at her to flee, she found she couldn't. He killed for her, and as repulsed and petrified as she was, she couldn't turn her back on him, he deserved better than that.

  "Did he hurt you?" he demanded.

  "No." She barely heard the word, but she knew he had when his eyes closed and took a deep breath.

  "Emma!" Mandy shouted.

  The door to her bedroom burst open, and the light turned on. Emma blinked against the glare.

  "What happened?" Jill cried.

  The crumpled body on the floor drew Emma’s eyes. Ethan moved swiftly to the side and grabbed the blanket off the bed. He tossed it over the man lying on the floor, but not before Emma caught a glimpse of the blood trailing from the puncture wounds in the side of the man's twisted neck. Whatever thoughts she had of the man possibly still being alive were doused by his unseeing eyes.

  "Who is that?" Jill demanded.

  "The gardener," Mandy said in a flat voice. "I saw him pruning the hibiscus the other day. What is he doing here?"

  "He attacked me." Emma hugged the towel tighter around her as she recalled it was all she wore. "He said Tristan wanted to talk with me."

  "Why would he do that, and how does he know Tristan?" Mandy demanded.

  "Tristan must have gotten to him," Ethan said as he studied the blanket on the floor.

  "Gotten to him and done what?" Emma asked.

  "Taken control of his mind."

  Emma's head spun, but before she could think of anything to say, a new noise drew her attention to the French doors as Isabelle and Stefan appeared on the balcony. She tugged the towel closer around her. Ethan stepped to the side, yanked the sheet from her bed, and wrapped it firmly around her.

  "You can do that?" she inquired as she tilted her head to look up at him. His eyes were still red as they met hers; a muscle twitched in his cheek, and she could almost hear his teeth grinding together.

  He fought the urge to crush her against him and never let her go. Instead, he forced himself to release her and drop his hands back to his sides. He had killed a man. He'd thought it would have eased some of his primal urges to destroy, but it didn’t. It only showed him what he was missing as the life force of the man pulsed through his veins, and the taste of the warm blood lingered on his lips. He wanted more. Touching her, if only for those brief seconds, had helped bring him some serenity though.

  She had to let him into her life again; she had to forgive him and start trusting him once more. As much as he didn't like to admit it, Isabelle was right; he needed Emma in his life if he was going to stop killing. He wouldn't have her in his life unless she were willing to be there though, and unless she loved him too.

  "Do what?" he asked as he'd forgotten what it was they'd been discussing.

  "Take control of people's minds?" she inquired.

  "Yes." He started to turn away, but her brisk inhalation brought his attention back to her. His eyes narrowed on her paler face and now trembling lower lip. "No, Emma, I've never done it to you."

  "How do I know that?" she inquired.

  "Because I wouldn't be lurking in the shadows outside your house, I'd be in your bed where I belong." He hadn't meant to be short with her, but the hideous events of the past two nights were pushing him toward a breaking point he wasn't sure he could survive. "And they," he thrust his finger at her friends. "Wouldn't remember any of this. Everything I've done is for you, and I will not violate your mind or the mind of anyone else. Believe whatever else you want about me, but know that much."

  He turned away from her, but her tiny hand on his arm stopped him again. "Thank you," she breathed.

  "Anything for you, Emma."

  Her mouth dropped open, but she didn't try to stop him again as he turned away from her. She didn't understand any of this, but his words left her speechless and her heart aching more than it had when she first woke.

  "What are we going to do about him?" Isabelle nodded toward the body.

  "I don't know," Ethan answered. "Weigh him down and drop him into the sea."

  The prospect didn’t please him. The man had injured Emma, he would have taken her to Tristan, but he was an innocent in this, one probably corrupted against his will.

  Emma turned toward Stefan and Isabelle. "You can both come in."

  Ethan's head shot up at Emma's words; hope filled him as she seemed to have decided to give them at least a little more of her trust. Isabelle and Stefan exchanged a glance before stepping into her bedroom.

  Isabelle gave Emma a small smile before hurrying to Ethan's side. "You didn't have a choice," she murmured. "Even if he was under someone else's control, you didn't have a choice."

  He knew she believed her words, but this was something he had always wanted. Guilt was beginning to eat at him as he stared at the motionless body on the floor. Emma started to walk toward her friends, and without thinking, he reached out and grasped her hand. He needed the connection with her and the tranquility she brought to the tumultuous seas coursing through him. He expected her to recoil, but her eyes shot to his, and her fingers brushed over his. More of the bloodlust and strain eased from him as his flesh remained in contact with hers.

  "Stay close," he told her.

  She bowed her head and pulled her hand away to wrap it within the sheet. Her eyes were darker due to the shadows under them. The lines around her mouth hadn't been there yesterday, but she was alive, and that was what mattered. He watched as she walked over to join her friends, they enveloped her in a hug and hovered around her.

  "He wasn't so innocent." Ethan's attention was drawn away from Emma by Stefan's words.

  "What makes you say that?" Ethan inquired.

  Stefan held up the man's arm to reveal a trail of faded bite marks from his wrist to his elbow. "There are enough here to make me think he allowed at least some of the vampires to feed on him daily. I don't think he was under anyone's control; he came here of his own free will to ingratiate himself further with them."

  "Why would he do that?" Emma asked.

  "Some people in this world will do anything to be closer to a vampire, will allow themselves to be used as food if there is the slightest hope they could one day become a vampire. We call them Feeders," Stefan answered.

  "Why would anyone allow that?" Jill looked as if she’d been told to suck on someone's toes as she asked the question.

  "The promise of immortality is incredibly enticing to a lot of people." Stefan dropped the gardener's arm away in disgust, wiped his hands on his jeans, and rose. He pulled Isabelle away from the man and moved her over toward the bed.


  This revelation helped to ease some of his guilt over killing the man. He no longer disliked the idea of tossing his body into the sea.

  "At least we know who was leaving you presents during the day," he said. "Though there could be others." The color faded further from Emma's face, her eyes shot to the open French doors and then the hall behind her. "We will keep all of you safe."

  She bowed her head but the anxiety etched onto her features didn't ease.

  "We have to get rid of him, now," Stefan said stridently.

  "The sun has set, Tristan and his friends will be out again," Isabelle said nervously. "We can't move him now."

  Ethan studied the darkening sky before turning his attention to Emma. Her eyes were riveted to the body beneath the sheet. "He has to stay here tonight, doesn’t he?" she asked.

  In answer to her question, laughter drifted in from outside, and something clattered across the balcony. Ethan leapt to his feet and hurried toward the doors.

  "Ethan, don't!" Isabelle cried and scurried over the top of the bed toward him.

  Without thinking, and driven by concern for Ethan's safety, Emma left her friends behind and ran toward him. Stefan made a move to grab her, but when Ethan turned toward him with a low growl, he dropped his hand down and stepped aside. Emma glanced between the two of them as confusion rolled through her, and she stopped a few feet away from Ethan. She would like nothing more than to throw herself into his arms to keep him from stepping outside, but if she threw herself into his arms now, she knew she would never look back.

  She could forgive him one day though, she realized, not everything was black and white in this world. Sometimes the colors were the most frightening part of it. She realized that now, but it still didn't mean they could be together. There was too much she didn't understand...was scared of; he was part of a world she'd never known existed until yesterday. He belonged to a world she wasn't part of.

  When he looked at her like he was now, she found herself not caring about any of those things. He'd risked his life for her, had killed for her, and he was staring at her as if she were the only thing in the world he could see. No one had ever looked at her like that; it made her feel loved in a way she never had before.

  Then a new sound resonated from outside and he was turning away from her as more laughter echoed through the night. "He'll call the police to try and set us up, I know he will," Emma whispered.

  "We can take care of the police," Stefan said. "They'll never remember they were here when we're done with them. He won't call them though; he's here to torment you and to taunt Ethan into responding. They have to be taken care of before anyone else dies."

  Isabelle grabbed Stefan's arm, stopping him before he could leave the house. "There's more of them than you think," she hissed. "I can smell them."

  That was the oddest statement Emma ever heard, but she wasn't about to question them on it. For now, there were some things she would prefer not to have elaborated.

  "How many are there?" Stefan asked.

  "More than last night," Ethan murmured. "At least eight, maybe more."

  Stefan's forehead furrowed as he frowned and looked toward the doors. "Eight? Why are there eight of them together?"

  Emma pulled the sheet closer around her when Ethan stepped in front of her and pushed her back a step. "Is that unusual?" she inquired.

  "That many together, yes. What they're doing, and why, is something I don't understand," Stefan answered.

  "The ones last night were young, and judging by the smell, and the way they're moving, these are young too." Ethan's nostrils flared as he scented the night. "Tristan created them."

  "What?" Emma blurted out.

  "These vampires are Tristan's creations."

  "Of course they are," Stefan said with a note of realization in his voice. "Young, impetuous, and eager to please their creator."

  "But where is his creator?" Isabelle asked.

  "Not all of those created are willing to stay with their creator, I certainly wasn't," Stefan said bitterly.

  Isabelle wrapped her hand around his arm and stepped closer to him. Emma glanced at Isabelle and Ethan as a new thought occurred to her, how were they both vampires? Had the same person changed them at the same time, or around the same time? But he'd talked about his parents and his numerous siblings; were they all vampires too? It was just more questions to add to the growing heap of them, but the heap would have to wait until later as laughter drifted in from outside again.

  "We need to think about this before engaging with them," Isabelle said and stepped forward to close the doors. "But neither of you are going out there without me."

  "You're not going out there," Stefan said briskly.

  "So it's settled that we're not engaging with them tonight," she said with a falsely sweet smile.

  Emma's gaze drifted back to the man lying next to the bureau. Her stomach twisted, she looked away before she spilled what little contents were in her belly as the eerie laughter continued to drift in from outside. "They'll stay out there all night," she whispered.

  Ethan stepped closer to her; he went to rest his hands on her shoulders but dropped them down before he could. "I think you should get dressed." She frowned at him and then at the sheet wrapped around her. "Please, Emma."

  She gathered the clothes she'd set out on the bureau before getting into the shower and stepped into the bathroom to change. When she came out of the bathroom, she immediately noticed the room was straightened, and the body removed. Emma frowned at the bare spot where the man had lain. Life had been lost there, yet not even a drop of blood marked it.

  "Where is he?" she asked.

  Ethan turned away from the doors and folded his hands behind his back as he studied her. Even with clothes on, she was still the most enticing female he'd ever laid eyes on, and she was the only one who could save him. She was also the only one who could drive him over the edge.

  "Stefan moved him into the bathroom down the hall," he told her.

  "How are we going to get a body out of here in the daylight?"

  "We'll figure out a way to take care of it, don't worry about that."

  Emma fiddled with the frayed edges of her cut-off shorts. "I feel like there's far too much for me to worry about lately."

  "I'm sorry Emma, I—”

  “Don't apologize, Ethan, please. Nothing can be done to change it, and I'm not sure I'd want to."

  "Really?"

  She hated the hope in his eyes. "I'm not ready to sit and talk about us. I'm not ready to continue this relationship. We've known each other for two weeks, and you've already met my crazy ex and killed someone. It might just be me, but I'm pretty sure that's a bad omen. Like even worse than the groom seeing the bride in her wedding dress before the ceremony, or a black cat crossing your path kind of bad omen. I'm not one for superstition, but this goes beyond that."

  He moved away from the doors. "I'll kill anyone who tries to come after you again. Anyone."

  Emma swallowed at his words, and her gaze drifted to the curtains he'd pulled over the doors. She could hear the other vampires out there, still running around and laughing like a group of patients who had escaped the asylum. He stepped closer to her, and despite all the words she’d just uttered, she found herself instinctively swaying toward him. Her skin came alive at the prospect of touching him again.

  What was this influence this man had on her? She fisted her hands at her sides to resist touching him. "I can't stay in this room, not anymore," she said to distract herself.

  A jolt of electricity shot through her as he rested his hand on her elbow. "Understandable. The others are in the living room."

  She couldn't help but move closer to him as he led her from the room and down the hall. "He was human when I knew him. Tristan was," she clarified at his questioning look. Ethan frowned as he thought over her words. "I mean, I realize I didn't know what you were, I assumed you were human too, but he had to have been human."

  "I'm sure he was,
" Ethan assured her.

  "If he wasn't," she stopped abruptly and tugged on his arm. "Do you think he twisted my mind or changed my memories in some way?"

  Ethan pulled her a step closer to him. "I believe he was human when you knew him, Emma. If he wasn’t I don't think you would be here. When you first walked out of his life, there was nothing he could do to get you back but harass you. He would have changed your mind then if he’d been a vampire. I think he disappeared from your life because he was changed, and he was with the creature who made him. He's returned now because he's stronger, and he has a way he can get you back by bending your mind to his will."

  Cold horror spread through her at his words. She couldn’t think of anything worse than what Ethan described. "That is why he's here, isn't it? To change my memories and make me do what he wants."

  "Emma." He took her hands and held them loosely before him. "I'm not going to let him get to you, I promise you. Whatever happens between us, you must know I will never let anyone hurt you. Not him, not me, no one."

  She found she couldn't breathe as his fevered gaze burned into hers. There was so much between them, but as she searched his eyes, she couldn't think of one reason why she wasn't kissing him right now. Then again, he had just killed someone and probably still had the taste of their blood in his mouth. That was reason enough, or at least it should be for any sane person, but she still found herself longing to taste him.

  Instead, she forced herself to take a step back to keep some distance between them. No matter what her heart and body desired, her mind was screaming at her to maintain her distance.

  For a moment, Ethan had thought she would finally come to him, but it wasn't to be. He sighed as he thought over their conversation. "Did Tristan go out in the daytime when you were together?"

  He fought the urge to drive his fist into the wall at the mere thought of that man touching her, holding her. If he lost his temper in front of her now, he would officially drive the final nail into what would become the coffin of their relationship.